lavender. (mace)

three.

The early morning sun creeps in through the blinds of Grace's bedroom. She winces as the harsh rays pierce her closed eyelids, before a comforting aroma leaked into her room.

Morning coffee.

And then, a faint sneeze. (Damn it, cold's still there.)

"Morning." Mamrie walks in with a black mug and hands it to Grace. Her hair is a mess as she sits against the headboard of the bed. It's like a lion mane, untamed but flowing so beautifully down her strong shoulders.

"What's this?" Her eyes are innocent and vulnerable in a way as she gently cups the mug in her hands.

"Coffee."

"Why?"

"Well, you're hungover, I presume." She sits on the foot of the bed. "Coffee helps that, yeah?" She doesn't drink, she prefers cigarette far more.

When she was 15, years back, she started smoking. Adults around her insisted she'd better stop before she gets hooked, and she's respond by spitting in their face and cussing them out under her breath.

"How drunk was I last night?"

"Too drunk." Mamrie says, she gently strokes the tired girl's ankles. "Just be grateful you don't have work today."

"Yeah." She gives a small, silent chuckle.

"Do you wanna rest?" She asks her.

"No, stay here." She tells her. "I wanna talk."

"About what?"

"I dunno." She sniffles and shrugs. "This would be a fairly good time to enlighten me on all of the terribly embarrassing things I did while drunk last night."

It takes all of her strength to not blurt out those drunken mumbles that she slurred the previous night. She doesn't want to reply and just decides to keep stroking Grace's ankles.

"C'mon, what'd I do?" She insists.

Mamrie shrugs and continues to gently rub her feet.

"Come on, don't be like that." She laughs. Mamrie stops and looks up at her. There's a lingering lull and it's almost intimidating. Almost.

"So, you like me, yeah?" The redhead beams.

Her eyes grow wide and if she was standing up you'd think she'd faint, based off the look on her face. All of the color in her face drains and she's speechless.

"Not fun to be forced to talk, is it?" Mamrie cocks her head to the side, grinning widely.

Another lull fills the space, this one long-drawn and awkward.

"I'm gonna head out." She continues.

"What?" She sits up more. "Why?"

"I'd better leave you be, you're tired." She lifts her feet off of her lap and begins to stand.

Grace reaches out and grabs the older girl's wrist. "You're leaving?" Her brow is furrowed and her face has a genuinely upset expression painted across it.

"Yeah, I better stay on the road." She stares downward.

"Where are you going?"

"I'll find out." She grabs her backpack by the door and throws up a casual peace sign as she heads out.

* * *

On her ride back home she thinks of Grace and how she looked that morning. Her voice was raspy and gentle, soft but deep. She thinks of the previous night, Grace slobbering all over the backseat, hiccuping herself deeper into the alcohol.

Loud music boomed in the distance as she kept driving away, the blonde's words replaying in her mind like an echo. It wouldn't be the first time she's had an uncomfortable situation like this, and every time she just leaves. Eventually, it finds itself to work out and everyone ends up alright.

So that's what she did, she left and all will surely fade away into history.

Right?

* * *

She sleeps again in the same parking lot that night, and awakens to a light tapping at the door.

It's Grace.

She's wearing nothing but a tank top and basketball shorts, hair tied up messily. Her nose is a bit red and her eyes are swollen.

Mamrie squints, exhausted, as she sits up and rolls the window down for the blonde.

"Hey." She warmly greets.

"What the hell?" She wipes her eyes.

"I caught your cold." She crosses her arms and leans into the car through the window, resting her elbows on top of the sill. "Thanks for that." She sarcastically says.

"What are you doing?" Mamrie asks her.

"I came to give this back." She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a hair tie, handing it to the older woman. "You left it on the kitchen counter yesterday."

Mamrie glares up at her and takes the hair tie. "Jesus, could you be any worse at this?

"At what?"

"At flirting!" She sighs. "If this even qualifies as that."

"Fine, I suck at flirting." Grace rolls her eyes. "Do you think I don't know that?"

"I get it, you like me." The redhead replies. "But you went looking for me, all the way out here, for this?" She lifts up the hair tie.

"Will you go on a date with me?" Grace stammers, tone nervous and tired.

"What the hell?"

"It's nuts, I know, hear me out." She says. "One week. I'll give you an amazing date each day for seven days, the best of your life. If you don't fall for me, I'll leave you alone forever."

Mamrie keeps her glare locked on Grace.

"Deal?" The blonde asks.

Her heart is racing. She doesn't have feelings for her, does she? After all, she just broke up with her left girlfriend. People don't just jump from person to person like that, do they? Is it worth it?

Only one way to find out.

"Deal."